


A Traditional Type of Guy

by jellybeanforest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cap-Ironman Bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, head - Freeform, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanforest/pseuds/jellybeanforest
Summary: Left alone on his wedding anniversary, Tony Stark picks up a handsome stranger at the bar.For the Cap-IronMan Bingo 2019 Round 2 – Head.





	A Traditional Type of Guy

“Can I buy you a drink?” The man asks, slipping into the empty stool next to Tony.

Tony gives him a slow once-over before responding, “Nothing stopping you, handsome.”

So he signals the bartender, “Give me a Schaefer if you have it, and another of whatever my friend here is drinking.”

“Don’t carry Schaefer. Ballantine’s okay?”

The stranger frowns. “Rather drink horse piss. Just give me whatever’s popular.” He turns to Tony. “The name’s Roger.”

“Tony.” He downs the scotch he had been nursing while waiting for his husband to get off work for anniversary drinks just as the bartender pours him a refill and opens a Blue Moon to place in front of the other man.

“Oh, I know. I’m a big fan.” Roger smiles, he plants an elbow on the bar then leans over to rest his cheek atop it, shifting a touch closer to Tony.

“Then you know I’m married, and I can see by that ring tan on your finger so are you,” Tony observes, taking a sip of his fresh scotch while Roger samples his beer, finding it acceptable. “Does your husband know you’re out here hitting on your celebrity crush?”

“Wife,” he corrects him, and Tony raises an eyebrow at that. “And yes, she knows. Not the specifics, but we have an agreement: Just don’t take them home.”

“Well, my husband is ex-army and a jealous man.”

Roger makes a show of looking around. “Then where is he?”

“I’m sure he’s just running late. Fifty-two minutes twelve seconds and counting actually,” Tony takes another sip. “Not that anyone’s counting.”

“I have to say: if I had a man like you waiting on me, I wouldn’t be too busy filing paperwork or playing shuffleboard or whatever men his age get up to to take you out on our anniversary, and that’s only if I let you out of our bed at all,” he says softly, looking at Tony from the corner of his eye as he takes another swig from his beer. Tony seems unimpressed with the man’s censure of his loving husband, so Roger continues, “It’s been what? Four years? Has the shine on your marriage faded so soon that he neglects you like this?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a jerk?” Tony replies, turning to face the front of the bar, his finger lightly rubbing around the rim of his tumbler.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” but Roger sure sounds unapologetic. “Any way I can make it up to you? I hear blowjobs are the traditional apology gift, and I’m a traditional type of guy. I have my act of contrition out back if you want to take it for a spin. I’ll get right on my knees and beg your forgiveness.”

Tony bites his lip. “That’s a tempting offer, honey.”

“Meet me in the back alley through the service entrance. Five minutes,” Roger’s eyes dance to the clock over the bar. “I’ll make you see stars.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Five minutes,” he reiterates confidently, dropping two twenties on the bar for their drinks plus a generous tip and heading out back past the bathrooms through the exit.

Tony takes a sip of his scotch and watches the minute hand tick by.

* * *

**Ten Minutes Later**

“I almost thought you weren’t going to show.” Roger smiles nervously, his voice almost coy as his eyes trail down to the bulge just visible in the other man’s pants.

“Shut up.” Tony kisses him, and he tastes of domestic beer and breath mints.

Roger palms Tony’s erection, breaking apart slightly to mumble low against his lips. “Excited, are we?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I didn’t come out here for the scintillating conversation. I heard there was head in it for me, so you better make it worth my time.” He pushes Roger down onto his knees right there in the muck and grim of the dim alley as he unzips his trousers with little fanfare to fish out his dick, already standing at attention for what is to come.

Roger handles it gently, as if it is a precious gift, giving him a firm stroke. “Of course, Tony.”

“That’s Mr. Stark to you,” Tony orders curtly, the hand still on the man’s shoulder slides up his neck to grasp the hair at the back of his head, giving it a little twist and tug to show him who’s in charge of this encounter.

“Whatever you want, Mr. Stark.”

“I want you to show me you aren’t all talk,” he replies, angling his dick to press against Roger’s cheek then sliding over his lips, smearing a trail of precum in its wake.

The man opens up, and Tony plunges in.

It’s rough at first. Tony is almost angry, setting a punishing pace as he fucks Roger’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat periodically until the man readjusts the angle of his head relative to his neck, letting Tony slide deep down inside. He clearly lacks a gag reflex. He does this with some regularity, Tony thinks with some bitterness. Eventually, the hand gripping Roger’s hair slackens, and Tony allows the man to work Tony over at his own pace.

Once he has gained control, Rogers is more languid but sloppy, alternately sucking and licking at Tony’s length, his head, along the seam in between. His cheeks hollow with the effort, and his mouth makes wet guttural sounds as he slides up and down, the breath from his nose warm against Tony’s pelvis on the downswing. He pulls up a bit, adding a hand at the base, stroking the member as he lavishes attention over the fat mushroom head and along the underside, making Tony moan and his knees buckle slightly. Rogers lifts one arm up to press against his chest, pushing Tony up against the back wall for support as he continues to work him over with an enthusiastic fervor.

A heat builds in Tony’s belly, and he doesn’t fight it, allowing the feeling to rise then crest sharply in release, the muscles of his body clenching as he spills into Roger’s mouth. (And yeah, maybe he does see bright flashes of light behind closed eyes like the man promised.) Roger doesn’t let up, slowly suckling at his Tony’s dick, swallowing every last drop before he lets if finally pop wetly out of his mouth.

He wipes residual cum and saliva off his lips and chin with a swipe of his wrist and stands, his own legs shaky after their intimate encounter. Slipping a hand into his pocket, he pulls out a wedding ring, slipping it back onto his finger.

Tony tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up as the other man waits for his cue on how to proceed.

“You were late,” he admonishes him, “And you didn’t even call. No one has stood up _the_ Tony Stark since I was a precocious underage prodigy in college.”

“I really am very sorry, sweetheart,” and there is the actual regret. “The debrief from my last mission with Nat took longer than expected, and we weren’t allowed outside calls. They even confiscated our cell phones. You know how Fury can get,” he sighs. “How did you like the apology blowjob, though?”

“Very hot. We should do that again next time you screw up.”

“So, never?”

Tony slaps his bicep lightly, and Steve laughs, bringing his left hand up to run his fingers through his hair. The light glints off Steve’s wedding ring.

That reminds him. “A wife, huh?”

“Roger Stevens is bisexual,” Steve explains, as if that’s enough to justify ‘Roger’s’ wandering eye.

“Hey, I resent that,” Tony huffs, slightly miffed. “Just because a man’s bisexual doesn’t mean he can’t be monogamous. That’s a terrible stereotype.”

“Roger isn’t into extramarital affairs because he’s bisexual. He just can’t keep it in his pants and on a completely unrelated note, also happens to be bisexual,” Steve clarifies. “Plus, he and his wife are in an open relationship. In fact, Janet is having an ongoing affair with her fitness instructor. Don’t kink-shame them, Tony.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. What imaginary people do in the privacy of their pretend bedrooms is none of my business.”

“Her fitness instructor’s name is Francois. His real name is Frank, and he’s from Jersey, but he fakes an accent to make himself appear exotic and interesting, but really, Janet would find him more endearing if she knew he regularly rescues unwanted senior dogs, giving them a home in their twilight years.”

That is far more backstory than Tony had expected his husband to have engineered for his single-use identity. “That’s quite the rich fantasy life you’re leading there, Steve.”

“That _Roger_ is living,” Steve corrects him, gathering Tony in his arms. “I quite like my real life, thanks.” He kisses him then, one hand lightly massaging the base of Tony’s neck and the other around his lower back traveling down to suggestively cup the curve of his ass.

Oh no. They are not about to have full-on sex against a back-alley dumpster.

Not again, at least. Not when there are a thousand better options. Like their marital bed.

Tony breaks the kiss, fumbling for his keys and leading Steve towards where he had parked.

“You. Me. Bed. Now.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Schaefer was the beer sponsor of the Dodgers in 1945 and a Brooklyn institution. Ballantine was the beer sponsor of the Yankees (NY Dodger rivals) for decades. Currently, both still exist (barely) and are owned by Pabst Brewing Company, which is why the bartender thought it would be a decent substitution, but Steve apparently did not take the suggestion too kindly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [We'll Make Our Own Tradition (The Cap and Gown Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876465) by [wynnesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome)


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